Read Hilda the wicked witch for Free Online

the drink, she went inside and found
a small table at the back, a bit secluded and out of view. She had
barely sat herself down, when someone came to her table.
    The waiter frowned at the broom, but did not
feel obliged to make a comment about that. "What'll it be?"
    "Coffee, of course," said Hilda, wondering why
the man bothered to ask. "It says outside that you have this."
    "Sure. What kind? Regular, strong, mocha,
latte?"
    "Do you have the kind with extra Arabica added
to the normal roast?" This was her trick question.
    "Nope. Just regular, strong, mocha and
latte."
    "Bring me regular. You may go." Hilda waved her
hand.
    Another frown later, the waiter left her alone,
wondering what kind of weirdo had come in just now.
    Hilda took the ball from her pocket and placed
it on the table. She thought it best to wait until the servant had
brought her beverage. Then she could seal off her area and start
her quest with the crystal.
    The waiter came with the coffee, put it on the
table and looked at the ball for a few seconds. The look that this
earned him from Hilda was convincing enough to make him retreat to
the main area of the restaurant.
    A snip of her fingers was then all it took to
separate her table from the rest of the place. Hilda sipped the
coffee. "Urgh. No Arabica. There is no witch or wizard at work
here, I know that." She was grateful that herknowledge of this
strange land was growing so rapidly. If the unfortunate would
happen and she could not return to her own land, this would not be
a bad place to linger for a while after all.
    She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands on
the table, thumbs up and palms facing the crystal ball. Slowly she
envisioned her necklace, interspersing it with the desire to have
it back. Show me, crystal ball, where the necklace is. Where is my
property, my means to return to my homeland...
    Patiently she worked up the power, drawing
energy from the coffee that went cold and white, and from the
strange light in a ball that was over her head. When warmth spread
in her palms, Hilda opened her eyes and looked at the crystal.
There were images forming. A fog, swirling and dancing in a
mesmerising manner. Hilda leaned over the table, until her wart was
almost against the ball. The images were there, very clear, but
hair of a unicorn, so small.
    In the ball Hilda saw movement. Hair was flying,
there was wind and motion, and a roar she had heard before. It was
like the roar of the caged animal in the cart. Then, and there her
heart jumped, she saw her necklace. It was found. It rested on
skin, which was good. That would keep it charged. "Where is the
skin," she mumbled, "where is the movement, the roar... show me..."
Her voice dropped so low that only a mere crackle came from her
throat, but the crystal ball understood her.
    The necklace, her dear and wanted necklace, was
around the neck of one of the women from the sad gang who were
travelling on their two-wheeled contraptions. Hilda had her
self-control grab her instinctive desire and fight it while it was
twisting to get away from her, urging her to go out, jump on the
broom and charge upon these miscreants.
    Calm on the surface, but seething under the
skin, she looked around for clues where the travelling gang was.
There were wide roads with white lines on them. There were wide
open spaces to the left of the road, and hills to the right. There
was a smell of flowers. A slight revulsion tried to take over, but
she ignored it. More and more little signs came to her, in the tiny
images that unfolded before her inside the little crystal ball.
Announcements on poles on the side of the road, in screaming
colours and large letters. Fenced in cattle here and there. More
and more she became familiar with the area, with its position
compared to where she was now. This part of the planning was
crucial: staking out the proper territory where the hunt was going
to be staged. She had to get this right the first time.
    Crystal balls are quite fickle.